


Little Red Riding Rood

by Dryad



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: Gen, pg13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:17:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title - an old English unit of measurement, in which for the purposes of this story it is suggested that Dani can only go as fast and as far as she can given the limitations of her knowledge and experience.</p></blockquote>





	Little Red Riding Rood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggimus_Rex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggimus_Rex/gifts).



~*~

Dani pushed the door open and paused, listening hard. There was the faintest sound of voices from down the hall. She followed them to the junction, stopped, turned left, walked on past the first closed office to the second on the left.

"Stella, I don't know what you expected."

The silence was heavy, and Dani knocked on the half-way open door before pushing it all the way open. The office was nothing special, walls painted Magnolia, a couple of plants, gray filing cabinets against two walls, a light box, laptop. "Ma'am," she said, looking first at DS Gibson before turning her attention to the pathologist. She nodded a hello. "Ma'am, ACC Burns would like a word when you've got a chance."

Seated in front of the pathologist's desk, all cool and fashionable in her pencil skirt the color of fawn, fuck-me black pumps and effortlessly chic white blouse, hands clasped in her lap, Gibson gave Dani a mercurial stare. The woman put the willies right up Dani, made her right feart. It was nothing Gibson did, it was how she was, something that suffused her entire being. 

The pathologist wasn't much different, though of a different race. Just as fashionable in an electric blue shirt, but with a kinder air about her. Maybe because she had a husband, children. Maybe she knew what life was about rather than constant death.

Which was funny, considering what she did for a living.

"Did you have another question, Constable?"

Dani tried not to clutch the brim of her hat too hard. That was the other thing; Gibson had an almost preternatural ability to see a person, to know their secrets. To know their secrets without eavesdropping, Dani reproachfully amended to herself. "I was wondering...now that the murders have stopped, d'you - "

"They haven't stopped," said Gibson. She idly rubbed one finger against the other. "The killer has merely moved to new territory."

Dani said, more loudly than she intended, "You can't know that." 

On the other side of the desk, the pathologist looked up from under her lashes. A moment later she leaned back in her chair. "Why not?"

Feeling like a schoolgirl reciting famous speeches in front of the class, Dani fought to contain her sudden consternation. Then she caught sight of the city map on the drab wall, stuck with a few pushpins in red, orange, and black. Tucking her hat under her arm, she stepped closer to the map, motioned towards the black and red pins. "Look, those are all where our unknown subject broke into the houses and murdered the women. That's all there is!"

"And the orange pins?" asked Gibson, so softly Dani almost didn't hear her.

"Sorry, Ma'am, out of our jurisdiction."

Gibson lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

Dani eyed the orange pins. "Ma'am?"

"Go on."

Shrugging helplessly, she said. "The orange pins represent other violent crimes?" She looked over her shoulder and just caught Gibson and the pathologist sharing an amused glance. That just wasn't on. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't remember your name."

"Professor Reed Smith," answered the pathologist.

Oh, she knew that, she had known that. Dani felt her cheeks heat. "I'm sorry, I think I knew and forgot."

"Not very healthy for someone in the Police," commented Gibson.

Nothing she could say to that, because it was nothing but the truth.

"Your name has come up several times, Constable Ferrington," said Smith. "One for the fast promotion, it would see."

"Well no, ma'am." Dani shook her head. "I need to learn as much as I can before moving up the ranks."

"But that's what you intend to do."

Were they mocking her? "I don't see why I shouldn't, ma'am."

The corners of Smith's mouth curled. "Good."

"So tell us why the orange pins can't be related to our killer," said Gibson. She had taken a pen from the desk and was rolling it between her fingertips, staring at it sightlessly.

The trap was obvious, and Dani was smart. Getting smarter with each passing day. Unlike some of the (kind and generous) dolts she worked with and for, she knew only too well that it paid to pay attention. Maybe they'd never been on the back end of a slap across the face, of a bottle hurled at them from the sofa across the room. Perhaps they hadn't grown up with a Mam who drank too much or a Da who hadn't given a shite. "They could be, but they're all over the city. How do you tell which ones from which?"

Smith and Gibson stared at her. 

"What I mean is, I take it the orange pins aren't bodies, but injured victims. If he's beating them, but not killing them, what hallmarks are there that make him the same person?"

"The methods of injury, the manner in which the injuries were precipitated, the items used, if any, to make the injuries."

"So...basically the same thing as if you were looking at a dead victim."

Smith shrugged. "More or less. It depends."

But Dani knew enough about Gibson now. She knew what Gibson was capable of doing, and if she said there were no more bodies because the killer was gone, the killer was gone. Because that's what Dani's intuition was also telling her. Just as her intuition had told her Gibson would be trouble for her. And maybe Dani had come on a little strong with what she knew. She came to parade rest and looked at Gibson. "Ma'am...I need to apologize for my behavior when we first met. I didn't mean to - I shouldn't have - "

"No, you shouldn't have," Gibson said, giving her a hard, unsmiling glare. The kind of glare the Fathers gave when you were too loud in Church. "I could have reported you."

Yet you didn't, Dani thought. You didn't and here were are. A two way street that had turned into an alley in a part of town she didn't know, because Dani had played her only hand to get into the game and Gibson was the dealer using a stacked deck. Which could only mean that one day, some time and in some place, Gibson would cash in her chips.

That day was far away, and who knew where Dani would be then? She might be a Detective Superintendent herself, never mind, hell, she might be the Chief Constable. So for now she would wait at Gibson's foot, would learn everything the woman had to teach and more. 

"I'm sure Constable Ferrington won't make that mistake again," said Smith. Her closed-mouth smile was as gentle as a shark's tooth. "Will you?"

Before Dani had a chance to answer, Gibson said. "She knows dangerous games when she sees them, don't you, Constable?"

Dani merely nodded. She was a Catholic in Northern Ireland, she worked in the PSNI, she was a woman. Then Gibson's lips curled in what passed for approval, and Dani realized that that was exactly why Gibson was helping her. 

She smiled back.

~*~ fin ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Title - an old English unit of measurement, in which for the purposes of this story it is suggested that Dani can only go as fast and as far as she can given the limitations of her knowledge and experience.


End file.
